


Seasons

by notyourshiro



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drinking, M/M, More tags will be added later, Underage Drinking, bokuakakurotsuki, completely self indulgent, idk what to put in here, tsukki is Suffering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 22:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21144191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourshiro/pseuds/notyourshiro
Summary: It takes Kei four seasons - and a whole year - to realize he’s fallen in love.





	Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly have no idea what to say here so i’m just going to say that this is 100% self indulgent and 100% unbeta-ed and 100% written at two a.m. so please excuse any mistakes!
> 
> without further ado, enjoy!

They meet in the summer. When Kei’s tucked away in the corner of a house he doesn’t know, attempting to tune out the sounds of a party he doesn’t want to be at.

“We’re all going to Rick’s, then we’re gonna hit up that old house on Waker.” His friend tells him, as if Kei actually cares and as if Kei can still hear over the loud music.

Kei never really was very close with Nishinoya, and this is probably why. Yamaguchi gets invited to parties and then Kei gets dragged along because Yamaguchi doesn’t know how to talk to women. For some reason he believes Kei is supposed to help with that, and Kei wishes he knew what that reason was. Kei doesn’t really give a shit right now, he just wishes the damn air conditioning worked.

“You look uncomfortable.”

Kei turns around to illicit a snappy response to whoever was unfortunate enough to point out the obvious to him. He’s cut off as he makes eye contact with said perpetrator, who is, in fact, very very attractive. Kei is not easily rendered speechless. His mouth takes a few moments to flap aimlessly, before he’s able to say anything.

“Uh, yeah. It’s hot.”

Nice.

The man raises a thin eyebrow, his lips curled into amusement, “It is.”

Kei takes the moment filled with awkward silence to get a better look at the man. He’s dressed strangely, in a Hawaiian shirt with neon flowers and hot pink cargo shorts. Kei is able to disregard the terrible excuse for fashion, and devote his attention to the man’s pretty face and mop of curls. At least, until he looks down.

His flip flops are fish.

Kei must have a weird look on his face because the man lets out a sigh that isn’t unlike that of someone that has endured many a trial.

“I am not a strong man,” He says, staring into the throng of people with regret.

“Oh,” Kei says.

The man nods, sipping a drink that magically appeared in his hand, “I’m Akaashi Keiji.”

“Tsukishima Kei.”

“Kei,” Akaashi says, and Kei can’t help but notice how nice his name sounds coming from the other man’s mouth.

“Don’t wear it out,” He snarks, because he’d missed his chance earlier and he’s still bitter.

Akaashi laughs, and it’s mostly drowned out by the noise, but Kei can hear it well enough to feel a little sick. This man is too pretty. Is Kei dead? Did he fall through the roof of the abandoned house and slip into a coma? Because he hopes that nobody wakes him up soon.

“Are you going to Rick’s with everyone?” Akaashi asks, swirling his drink like a tired wine-drinking mother.

Kei makes a noncommittal noise, shrugging, “I don’t know.”

Akaashi nudges him with his neon flowered shoulder, “You should. I’m going.”

Kei would wonder why that would matter if it was anyone other than Akaashi talking. He shrugs, hoping to seem casual, ignoring the fact that his awkward behavior is anything but casual. He hopes Akaashi is ignoring it too.

He soon finds himself - rather miraculously - tucked in the bed of a speeding truck, holding onto his glasses for dear life. Akaashi is squished next to him, and the rest of the bed is filled with people he doesn’t recognize. This is not Kei’s ideal way of transportation. In fact, it's quite far from it. Kei is silent for most of the ride, mostly due to the fact that he can hardly hear or be heard over the rushing wind.

Kei is wind blown and impossibly more annoyed by the time they reach Rick’s. The group of teenagers disperses, against better judgement, to stock up on snacks. Akaashi and Kei silently split off from the larger majority, much to Kei’s relief.

“What kind of snacks do you like?” Akaashi asks, and Kei opens his mouth to answer before he’s rudely interrupted.

“Akaashi!”

A man comes barreling around the corner, wearing only socks, and Kei can see the accident before it happens. The man slips, skidding into a nearby shelf and knocking half of the contents off. They fall pitifully onto the man, who lies on the floor motionless.

“Is he okay?” Kei asks, and Akaashi merely shrugs.

“Let’s leave before the other half of his brain cell arrives.”

There’s a shout from a couple isles away and the sound of footsteps approaching. Akaashi grabs Kei’s hand and they make their hasty retreat. They’re stopped, however, by another shout of Akaashi’s name.

“What happened to Bo?”

They find another man with the messiest hair Kei has ever seen at the end of the aisle, his finger to the fallen man’s neck. Kei suddenly wants to wake up from his imagined coma.

“He fell.” Akaashi says, looking exhausted already, and Kei can’t help but feel the impending doom approaching.

The messy haired man stands, making his way over to where the two of them stand. He regards Kei with piercing golden eyes that seem to bore into his soul, a smirk on his face.

“And who might you be?” The man asks.

Kei glares up at him, irritated by his haughty expression, “I might be none of your business.”

The man’s grin only widens, infuriatingly enough, “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Akaashi sighs deeply, “Is Bokuto-san okay?”

Kuroo nods, “Yeah, he just told me to act like he was dead.”

“Bro!” Bokuto shrieks, leaping to his feet in a way that would not be possible for a dead person, “You weren’t supposed to tell them!”

“Bokuto-san where are your shoes?”

Bokuto ignores Akaashi, pointing an accusatory finger at Kei instead, “Who are you?”

“Kei Tsukishima,” Kei deadpans, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Corpse-san.”

Bokuto screeches at this, and Kuroo begins to make a noise that concerns Kei very greatly. He later finds out that the sounds coming from Kuroo’s mouth are the sounds of laughter, and he is not sure if this eases his concern at all.

“Why are you two here?” Akaashi asks, inspecting a bag of sour gummy worms.

Kei notices for the first time that his nails are painted black, and he thinks that this may be more representative of Akaashi’s style. He also notices the other little things about Akaashi, like the smattering of freckles atop his cheekbones and the black eyeliner on his lids. Fluorescent lights hide nothing. Kei begins to feel very gay and very self conscious, all in the same moment.

“We got invited to come, duh,” Bokuto makes his voice sound very stupid, and Kei wonders why anyone would invite him anywhere.

“Are you going to the abandoned house as well?”

Kuroo picks up a bag of Swedish Fish off the ground, “Duh.”

Akaashi breathes harshly out of his nose, eyeing the two troublemakers, “Wonderful. Would you three hurry up and pick?”

Kuroo holds up his bag of fish, and Bokuto grabs a box of Hot Tamales off the shelf. Kei panics momentarily before grabbing a bag of strawberry Twizzlers. Akaashi looks satisfied and begins to make his way to the register.

“Akaashi’s so hot when he’s mad,” Bokuto stage-whispers, and Kuroo snickers.

“You’re the only one who thinks that.”

Kei raises an eyebrow, “Are you and Akaashi…?”

Bokuto tilts his head, obviously confused, and Kuroo sighs, “Nah, unfortunately I’m stuck with him.”

Kei attempts — and doesn’t do a very good job — to ignore the immense relief he feels at this. He doesn’t ignore, however, the worry of what Bokuto and Kuroo get up to when they’re left to their own devices.

It must show on his face because Bokuto laughs and slaps his shoulder, “Date night’s been at the county jail a few times.”

Kei suddenly wonders what would happen if he were to take Akaashi and run.

Probably nothing good.

They leave the gas station without any other incidents. Akaashi ended up paying for Kei’s candy, even though he’d insisted he could pay just fine. He’d received a few elbow nudges and eyebrow waggles from the Terrible Two, and he’s been around Nishinoya long enough to know what that means.

The abandoned house is about a fifteen minute drive into the middle of nowhere. The roof is caved in a few spots, but otherwise the house is mostly intact. It’s large, large enough for a few groups of people to be in and never see each other but a couple times. Kei would entertain the word mansion for the place, but that sounds cheesy and stupid so he’ll call it a house for the sake of being cool around Akaashi. He’s a loser, he’s aware.

They don’t find Bokuto or Kuroo, fortunately, and Akaashi informs him that they’ve probably run off to make out or whatever people such as themselves do. They help unload beers and sneak off to a far corner of the house with some of their own.

Akaashi lights a cigarette and places it between his lips , which Kei shouldn’t have found so hot, and sits down onto the disgusting couch in what was presumably the living room. The sounds of music float down the hallway from another room, sounding strangely like_ Stayin Alive_ by the Bee Gees. Kei supposes anything is possible at this point.

He takes a seat next to Akaashi, and the man pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, offering it to Kei.

Kei sputters, “Oh, um, I’ve never smoked before.”

Akaashi cocks an eyebrow, exhaling smoke, “So?”

Kei can feel the prickling heat of a blush on his face, and he’s sure he looks about as much of an idiot as he feels. Akaashi snorts, holding his own cigarette out to Kei.

“Here. Breathe in slow, and long. Hold it for a bit then release.”

Kei takes the cigarette, face impossibly hot, and holds it to his lips. He inhales, slow like Akaashi said, smoke tickling his throat. He sputters, coughing, and Akaashi laughs.

“You’ll get used to it. It takes a little while.”

Kei can only nod his head, still choking, and Akaashi opens one of the beers, offering it to him. Kei wonders briefly how beer could possibly help this situation, but again, Akaashi is pretty, so he takes the beer and gulps it down.

“Again?” Akaashi asks, and Kei shakes his head.

“I think I’m done for right now.”

Akaashi snorts and sets the cigarette between his lips once more. Kei’s attention is so drawn to the fact that they kissed indirectly, that he goes to take a second sip of beer and promptly spills half of it on his lap. He stares down at his lap in dismay, a very noticeable wet spot appearing in his crotch area. How unfortunate.

Even more unfortunate is the sound of approaching footsteps down the hallway. Bokuto bursts into the room, feet still devoid of any shoes, holding C-3PO print underwear.

“LOOK!” He shouts, brandishing the underwear to the two of them, “I won these!”

Kei looks back down to the wet spot in his pants once more.

“Bokuto-san,” he starts, “May I borrow those?”

Bokuto follows his gaze, “Oh, yeah sure. Did you piss yourself? Sometimes that happens to me.”

Kei decides to ignore that last comment and take the underwear from Bokuto hesitantly, “I spilled my drink.”

Bokuto’s mouth forms into an ‘o’ and Kuroo takes this unfortunate time to enter. He promptly ends up on the floor, cackling at Kei’s expense. Kei hides behind an overturned sofa on the other side of the room, attempting to ignore Kuroo’s laughing as he changes his pants.

Everything seems to be unfortunate at this point and Kei is merely the subject of life’s amusement. He emerges from the couch a new man, his fashion terrible enough to rival Akaashi’s. Kuroo makes more concerning noises with his mouth. Kei wishes he would choke and die already.

“Wow! They look great on you,” Bokuto supplies, “Maybe you should keep them instead. As a gift from me to you!”

“How kind,” Kei deadpans, collapsing next to Akaashi, who dismally pats his head.

“Although, pissing your pants isn’t really something you should get a gift for,” Bokuto really needs to shut his mouth, as far as Kei is concerned, “It’s all part of potty training.”

“I _am_ potty trained,” Kei hisses, and he can feel the shake of Akaashi’s shoulders as he laughs.

Bokuto reminds Kei of a five year old who believes they have unlocked all of the secrets of the universe. He would find it more comical had he not been the subject of Bokuto’s idiocy. Kuroo takes the opportunity in which he is deep in thought to collapse on top of him.

Kei can only stare up at the ceiling in exhaustion.

“You’re pretty cute, Tsukki,” Kuroo sighs, and Bokuto’s whine is the only warning Kei receives before he joins the body pile.

“I’m cute too,” Bokuto insists, and Kei would be lying if he said he didn’t find Bokuto’s pout the littlest bit cute.

God, the alcohol was getting to his head now.

“You’re all cute,” Akaashi says, blowing smoke into Kuroo’s face, “Especially so when your mouths are closed.”

“Except for Kei,” Akaashi adds, and Kei feels very smug in that moment.

He also feels very strange. He never thought he find himself tucked among three other bodies in an abandoned house, wearing only a t-shirt and Star Wars boxers. And despite the peculiarity of the situation, he’s comfortable, and he thinks that that’s the strangest part.

_“....Don't you try and pretend_  
_ It's my feeling we'll win in the end…”_

The familiar tune to a 80s song Kei vaguely knows lilts down from the upper floors, and Akaashi taps the beat out onto his arm. It all feels very surreal, even more so when Kuroo begins to sing along, and it doesn’t sound half bad.

“_Don't you forget about me_,” Kuroo sings, Bokuto joining him for the next line, “_I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby_.”

Kei feels all hot and prickly when Akaashi joins in, his raspy voice catching Kei off guard. It’s nice, in the strangest fucking way, and Kei can’t even bother to remember how he ended up here. He doesn’t even care now. Because Akaashi _and_ Bokuto _and_ Kuroo are pretty and he can’t be bothered to give a damn around pretty people in the heat of summer.

“_As you walk on by_,” Kei joins in too, his voice fitting right in with the other three, “_Will you call my name_?”

They croon out the rest of the lyrics before dissolving into silence as another song none of them care to sing fills the room.

“God,” Kuroo says, scrubbing his face with a hand, “Are we in some fucking indie movie or something?”

Kei shrugs, although none of them can see it, “Suppose we are.”

“What’s our movie called?” Bokuto asks.

“It’s Fucking Hot and I Hate Everything.” Kei deadpans, and Akaashi’s laugh vibrates against him.

“Very helpful,” Kuroo says, his tone dry, “Does anyone _other than_ Kei have a good one?”

“I dunno,” Akaashi starts, the couch squeaking as he adjusts his position, “I kinda liked Kei’s.”

“Yeah well you’re kinda biased to Kei, aren’t you, Mister Big Spender?” Kuroo sneers, and Akaashi lazily bats at his arm.

“Fuck off, Kuroo.”

They lapse into silence for a few minutes longer.

“Is that_ September_?” Bokuto asks, and they all listen for a moment.

“I think so.” Akaashi says.

“Should we sing?” Kuroo asks, but he’s abruptly cut off by Bokuto’s arm slapping his face.

“I’ve got it!”

“Got what?” Kei asks, and Kuroo murmurs unintelligible threats under his breath.

“Our name,” Bokuto says, sitting up as if he’s made a brilliant revelation.

“Yeah?” Kei asks, “Whatcha got?”

“To Those in the Summertime!”

It’s silent for a few moments, before Kuroo opens his fat mouth again. Kei no longer has the willpower to feel surprised.

“That’s actually…” Kuroo pauses, and Kei can’t tell if its for dramatic effect or because he simply can’t conjure up the words. Kei supposes either option is plausible.

“Not bad.” Akaashi finishes, and Kei hums in agreement.

“So,” Kuroo starts, “Does this mean we’re starting a band?”

Kei slaps Kuroo’s forehead, “You sound like a dying horse.”

Bokuto bursts into laughter, a cute hiccuping, snorting cacophony, and Kei can feel Akaashi’s body quake with suppressed amusement behind him.

He supposes that, maybe, possibly, this night hasn’t been that unfortunate after all.

At least, until, Kuroo begins to shriek out the lyrics to _September_. Kei will always regret some things.

**Author's Note:**

> i'll admit, I don't know much about smoking because I've only vaped like twice and I was pretty bad at it, so sorry for any inaccuracy in Akaashi's explanation! I hope the rest was okay, though! I’ll finish the rest of the chapters eventually. emphasis on the eventually lol
> 
> Thanks for checking this out!!


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